


Kiddie Killers

by Pimpkin_Pie



Category: A Nightmare on Elm Street - All Media Types, Friday the 13th Series (Movies), Halloween Movies - All Media Types, The Boy (2016 Bell), The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Movies)
Genre: Cute Kids, Gen, I Tried, Kiddie Killers AU, Mild-mannered kids, No Romance, Reader Insert, Stalking(kinda), only fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2019-10-15 19:16:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17534618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pimpkin_Pie/pseuds/Pimpkin_Pie
Summary: A killer is afoot in your town. Only, they're not what you were expecting them to be.





	1. Beginning Part

**Author's Note:**

> I would LOVE feedback and any ideas you guys have! Thanks for reading!

  Fuck Bob. He is an asshole, I mean, who the hell made someone do someone else's goddamn work?!? Now it's eight, it's dark, and it's zombie apocalypse silent.  Honestly, did the world just stop here after eight?  Muttering under your breath, you log out of your work computer, ready to leave now that  you finished. Putting on your coat(double-checking you have pepper spray), you grabbed your things and began walking out, saying good night to the custodian workers as you passed by. Stepping out into the bitter cold air made you shiver and clutch your bag and coat a bit harder. The street lights overhead flickered slightly as you walked down the block heading home. People were still out this late despite the cold, and you were careful to avoid them. You always were a bit paranoid when you saw people at night, thinking about how they could easily jump you or do something worse. It was unlikely, but still, it never hurt to be cautious, especially since those news reports about people being found dead in alleyways, with their throat slit or found in pieces. It was the reason you started to carry around pepper spray and would finish work earlier. Until Bob fucked you over by making you do some of his work. Shaking your head to focus, you walked a bit faster, hoping to make something homemade rather than popping in another microwave dinner if you weren't tired.

 _Step. Step. Step_. You froze, listening to the silence. Was someone walking behind you? You calmed down, it was probably just someone heading home like you. Nothing to worry about. You took out your phone, thinking some music would help you out.

"Hey lady!", a  drunk man's voice called out from behind. You walked faster, hoping he'd stop. He didn't. "Come one, just talk to me. It's real quiet tonight and I'd love some company." 

"No thanks, I'm just heading home.", you say politely, reaching into your pocket. You felt around for the spray and clutched in your hand, ready to whip it out if need be. 

"Really? I'm heading home too! How about we head home together, maybe even have a little fun-" You broke out into a run and heard the man curse before he took off after you. Shit, this was not what you wanted to spend your Friday night doing. You looked around and spotted an alleyway to your right. You turned into it and whipped  around to spray the creep, but he grabbed your wrist and squeezed, making you drop it. "Come on now,",he whispered up to your face, close enough that the smell of booze clogged your nose,"I just want to have a little fun. If you didn't want to go home, you could have said so. We can just have fun here." You struggled in his arms, trying to break free as he pulled you up against the wall. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle." You teared up, but refused to cry, not wanting to give this man the satisfaction. You turned your head away, and then you noticed something was crouching in the shadows of a garbage bin. You couldn't see it clearly, but something glinted in its hands.

Suddenly, the dark blur jumped unto the man's back and pulled him backwards, farther into the dark alleyway. You  staggered back into a street light and held your breath as a scream rang out before...silence. You stood there, uncertain of what to do. If what you think just happened, then you had just heard a man die. Should you thank the person for killing him? Should you run? While you debated this, the person who had saved you stepped into the light coming off the streetlight.

You gasped as you realized that the person who had saved you was...

 


	2. Jason Voorhees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hockey boi

...a boy wearing a hockey mask. Confusion quickly replaced fear as you stared down at the kid. He had on a blue flannel shirt and overalls, and was wearing a brown coat that went over his hands and feet.This little five-year-old brought down a twenty-year-old man? He was just staring out, kinda breathing out loudly. You walked over a bit slowly, wanting to make sure he was okay when the boy brought up his right arm. The sleeve fell down his arm a bit to reveal you had saw shining in the dark when you were struggling: a machete streaked with blood. You gasped and back up in fear, only to realize he was just wiping it off. For now.

"You aren't going to hurt me, are you?", you questioned uncertainly, looking at the machete a bit warily. The boy stop wiping off his machete to very aggressively shake his head, his shocked eyes peering from his mask at you. You sighed in relief and then focused on the matter at hand. You were in an alleyway, at night, with a dead body and a little boy who was a killer. What were you supposed to do? The kid seemed to act innocent, but he had taken down a man without hesitation. You knew if you told the police, they either A) would laugh at your face or B) believe you were trying to blame a kid for a murder you committed. No, the police were out. You had to get rid of the body somehow. But how? While you were thinking, the kid had gone back into the alleyway to throw the body into a dumpster. The noise startled you. "I guess that's one way to do it.", you muttered. The kid nodded and then seemed to just stare at you...like he was waiting for something. You began to feel uncomfortable with the staring and said,"Good job?" uncertainly, but he seemed happy about that and seemed to glow with the praise. That was adorable and made you realize one final problem: what to do with the kid? You could just leave him here, he seemed to be fine on his home; however, you couldn't do that without regret and...honestly. Look at this kid! He was like a puppy, waiting for praise and someone to love. Now that you think about it, where were his parents? "Do your parents know where you are?", you asked, concern laced in your voice. He sniffled and whimpered sadly, looking down at the ground. Well, either he had bad parents, or his were dead. Judging by the fact he wasn't scared of you or ran away, you guessed the latter. You felt sorry for him and made a decision; you were taking care of him. "What's your name?"  He tried to say something, grunted, and then groaned, sounding frustrated about something. You blinked, before realizing he was probably mute. Well, there was time for a guessing game later. You motioned for him to follow you, and he did, not hesitating to hold onto your hand as you began walking home.

 

When you were back in your home, the kid stood in the entry hall, refusing to go a step further. He seemed afraid to touch anything.  _He is a bit dirty_ , you thought, looking him over closely in the clear light of your home. He was covered in dirt from head to toe, probably from living in the streets, and was a bit scuffed up. You motioned for him to follow you, and he walked behind you like a duckling to the bathroom. Once he realized what it was, he seemed to freeze before trying to dash out.

"Oh no, buster, you need a bath!", you shouted, grabbing before he could reach the door. You turned on the water, heating it up to just the right temperature and, after reassuring him that the water would hurt him, he had undressed(while you were facing the door), putting his machete on top of the pile of clothes, and slipped into the tub. You were about to leave, but he had grabbed your hand, not wanting to be alone  ~~with the deadly water~~. You helped him shampoo his hair, noticing that his hair was thin, and were about to take off his mask when he moved away from you, clutching his mask and shaking his head back and forth. "Come on, we have to clean your face.", you said calmly, not wanting to stress him out too much. He hesitated for a bit longer, but you just patiently wait for him to take it off. When he did, you didn't stare at face and instead just handed him the cloth, assuming he didn't want you to touch his face. He took it gratefully and washed his face and the inside of the mask with it while you washed the shampoo out of his hair carefully, making sure not pour water over his eyes. Just before the water got cold, he was cleaned up and covered himself with a fluffy blanket, his mask, now clean and dry, back on his face. You ushered him down the hall into the guest bedroom, which was across from your room. You had him stay put for a minute while you put his clothes in the washer and got him one of your big flannel shirts to wear for now. It was a red one and he seemed to love it, snuggling his mask into it. You chuckled at the cuteness of him before getting out your phone. He didn't seem to speak, but maybe you could get him to just type his name out. "Hey" he looked up with puppy eyes. You motioned to your phone and explaining clearly what you wanted him to do. He seemed a bit confused by the phone, but he quickly got the concept and typed out a few letters before handing the phone back to you. You looked at what he wrote.

J a S o n 

"Jason?", you said, wanting to make sure. Jason confirmed, nodding his head very enthusiastically. You smiled. "Jason, would you like to eat now?" A nod. You headed to the kitchen. As Jason came in, you looked through your fridge for something to feed him. You took out some carrot, beef, and celery. Getting out a pot, you set about making beef stew, keeping a somewhat one-sided conversation with Jason, with him only nodding and grunting in response to you. When the stew's ready, you serve it to him and he nods his head in thanks, lifting his mask just enough to eat with the spoon. You get your own bowl and eat with him in silence, both of you content with it. You finish up and, after Jason is done as well, clean his and yours bowls and utensils. You guide a very sleepy Jason back up to his room, and you go to yours and get dressed in pajamas. Just as you're about to go to sleep, a knock jolts you awake. Jason sheepishly opens the door, and walks in to stand by your bed awkwardly, not looking at you. You don't need to be telepathic to understand what he wants and pat your bed, inviting him on. He jumps on and cuddles into you, holding onto your arm as he went to snoozeland. You smiled down at him and drifted off to sleep as well.


	3. Bubba Sawyer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One Texas Boi.

...some little boy wearing a mask. A mask that was made out of, on close inspection, human skin. Revulsion crawled down your throat and you nearly puked, but you kept it in check. After all, the kid was also holding a freaking chainsaw. How was he holding it up and not straining any muscle? The kid looked to be only 6! You scratched your head in puzzlement, should you be scared, disgusted, happy, what? Then you looked at him more closely. He had a little yellow apron on, which was cute, covered in blood, which was not cute. He seemed to be wearing a small red and white flannel shirt and blue jeans, but it was honestly kinda hard to tell under all the dirt and blood. He must be one of your town's local killers, more specifically the one who was leaving the bodies all in pieces. You started to pace back and forth, muttering a little under your breath.

"What to do, what to do..", You muttered, looking back at the kid. He was just looking at you with his cocked to the side like a confused puppy. And then he went back, grabbed the body in alleyway, and then revved up the chainsaw again. You looked around nervously, praying no one woke up while the kid carved the body up like some Christmas turkey. After he finished whatever he was doing, he hands you a bone and looks up at you carefully, waiting for approval. You give him a nervous smile and look at the bone closely. It was covered a bit with flesh bits and blood, and it seemed to be a humerus.  _He gave me a bone like a dog_ , was the first thing that went through your head after the shock wore off. "How..nice. Thank you.", you managed to say weakly. The kid seemed to glow with the praise, and gave a happy grunt. Now what were you going to do? You had a kid here, standing in some dirty apron, covered in blood and dirt. He must have been homeless, and that sealed the deal for you. If he didn't have a home, you were going to give him one. "Come on,", you held out your hand," let's go home." He hesitated, looking at your hand with caution before grabbing it lightly. You held his hand and began walking home, you holding onto your purse and his hand, him holding onto a chainsaw and your hand.

 

"Home sweet home.", was what you muttered when you got home.  Your German Shepard, Thomas, could be heard scrambling and woofing somewhere in another room(probably the basement again). The kid squealed when he saw Thomas, dropping his chainsaw on the welcome mat, and made to go after him until you grabbed his apron neck loop. 

"Oh no,no, _no_ ,you are getting a bath first, mister." He growled a bit in frustration and tried to escape your grip, but he gave up quickly after you said,"You can have a bubble bath~" Then he zoomed up the stairs, which was the direction you were going. You chuckled and ran off after the little giggling boy. You catch him, hoisted up the little squealer, and made off to the master bathroom. Your bathroom was pretty big, about the size of a small kid's room, and it looked like one too. You had this metal pantry rack thing that you had filled with many thing; water guns, rubber duckies, bath bubbles, the works. You even had those bath tub markers! After getting your tub nice and full of warm soapy water(the bubble soap the kid selected being strawberry),you turned around and asked the kid a question you probably should ask an hour ago. "What's your name?" Silence answered you. Turning around slowly, you saw him making what you deemed a sad puppy look. "Can't speak?" A slow,sad nod. "Hmm...can you spell it?" A shrug.  _Close enough_ , you think and grab a set of bath markers. You open it and hand him a blue. He looks at it for a bit and then writes, in barely eligible handwriting, the following letters: B U B B A. "Bubba.", you read out loud, the response being a happy squeal and clapping from Bubba. You giggle a bit before helping him to shampoo his hair. It took a little bit of persuasion, but you also got him to take off the mask to clean his face. He turned his back when you had to rinse out the shampoo, and you saw purple and yellow bruises decorating his back. You must have gasped because he whimpered and curled in a bit. Why he did that, you don't know. Embarrassment? Shame? Or was he replaying what led to those bruises, remembering his fear? You leaned over the side of the tub and hugged him to your chest and he cuddle up to you, seeking out you and the sense of safety you provided. "You poor thing.", you whisper, and your heart breaks hearing him whimper. Bubba definitely was not going back to where he came from, not if you had anything to do with it. This boy needed TLC, not abuse. For now, though, he needed a meal and out of the tub if his tummy growls and shivering indicate anything. You finish him up quickly and get him wrapped up burrito-style in a warm brown towel. You hold him bridal style, making him squeal, and carry him back to your bedroom. There you set him down and grab a big, over-sized yellow flannel shirt you own for sleeping in and hand it over to him, helping him a bit with the buttons. Thomas has wandered up while you helped Bubba get dressed and now sniffed him curiously. You tense up, ready to grab him if he tried to lunge(he didn't really like strangers), but you're pleasantly surprised to see Thomas lick Bubba's face playfully, making him giggle. You get both of them downstairs and feed your big boy with some dog chow, and grab a can of chili, making you and Bubba dinner. Bubba hums a little tune while the chili heats up in a little pot and you listen. After food's ready, you serve it up in some blue ceramic bowls your grandma passed on to you. While you chow down, Bubba stares at his bowl a bit...wistfully? You stop eating and peer more carefully at him. Yeah, wistfully definitely is the word for it, looking at the bowl like it was a long-lost brother or something. He sniffled before full out sobbing, and you jump up and hug him, patting his back and saying soothing words. He quiets down a bit but still sniffles as he shoves chili into his mouth. "You okay Bubba?" he sniffles a little before nodding. _Probably should find a_ _therapist_ , you add on your mental checklist before picking him up and swinging him around, earning squeals of giddiness from him and barks of caution from Thomas.

As you get Bubba in bed in one of the guest rooms, he makes grabby hands for one last hug before you leave. You comply, giving him a squeeze, and pat the bed for Thomas to come up, which he does. You pat him and smile down at your two boys, one a fur-baby and the other a chainsaw-wielding kiddie. A bit of an odd kind of family, but you knew it would work out. You turn off the room light as you leave, making sure to keep the hallway one on. As you tucked yourself in, you thought about adoption papers and what the future would hold.


	4. Brahms Heelshire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One clingy, cardigan-wearing boi

...a little boy doll. Wait...you peered more closely at the person. No, it was a little boy! His face was covered by a porcelain doll mask, a bit of an oddity, but nothing you found too disturbing.The state of his clothes and hair made you very concerned, however. The light blue cardigan he was wearing over his white shirt was covered in soot, grit, and dirt. His mask was cracked slightly too, and his hair was an absolute mess, looking like some rat nest. His dark-brown eyes were what sealed the deal for you; they were looking at you in hope and desperation. You knew that look, have  _worn_ that look before. Being raised up in a neglectful household had made you desperate for attention and care from someone, anyone. Luckily, you had a big sister who gave you that and made sure that no creeps could ever manipulate you. You had stopped being attention-starved after turning twelve, but you were grateful for your older sis looking out for you. However, looking at the boy before you, you could tell he hadn't been as lucky, hadn't had someone to love him and give the attention he needed. And maybe even led to his current predicament of being homeless. After all, causing trouble gave you attention, just not the kind most want. You leaned down slowly, so as to not scare him off.

"Hey...you wanna come stay with me?", you whisper, the concern you felt for him showing true on your face. He took one look at you and ran over, clutching you as he started sobbing. You hugged him back, listening to him speak.

"I di-didn't mean to hur-hurt her, I-i j-just w-wanted Em-emily to stop-op t-teasing me! I-i-", the little boy continued to blubber on, but you only paid some attention to it. Emily...Emily. That was the name of the girl found dead at in the woods near the Heelshire mansion last year, right? She was supposedly been with some other kid.. what was their name...You shook your head slightly, you needed to focus on the more important questions. That house was twenty miles from here and it had been a year! How did he even survive? Looking down at his feet, you see they are bloody and covered dirt. You would definitely need to treat those first and then the burns that seemed to be on his arms and legs as well. You slowly rise and, carrying him in your arms, you rush home, intent on helping this boy. 

 

When you got home, you gently sat him on a patio chair before unlocking your door. Picking him back up, you rush down the hall into the hallway bathroom, avoiding Buster, your dog. Once you got there, you set him on the toilet and got out a first aid kit from under the sink. You got out rubbing alcohol, burn cream, rolled-up bandages, and a few other things. The boy was whimpering a bit in pain when you started to clean up his injuries, but he stopped after a while and just flinched every now and then. When you finished, you smiled up and patted his head, making him glow with joy. You then took out a pair of scissors you kept around to cut Jason's fur coat and your hairbrush.

"I need to fix your hair up, ok? Some of it is to tangles up to untangle and that needs to be cut off. ", you explain carefully. He whimpered a bit, covering his head with hands and shaking his head. You just brushed his hands aside and brushed his hair out as best as you could, stopping to take out sticks and leaves.He eventually agreed that it needed to be cut when a bug fell out, which caused him to cry out. You had calmly killed it with a paper towel while he had cowered on his porcelain throne. You snipped out his hair, being careful to keep it even. After you had finished, you let him look in the mirror. He had stared at his hair, patting it while you gathered the hair strands up and put them in the trash. "Come on" He followed you to your room which you stopped in front of."By the way, I'm Y/N. What's your name?" You waited patiently for him to answer.

"Brahms..", he mumbled, looking down at the carpet. You smiled and led him inside your room into your bathroom. He got naked while you got the water running. You turned away while he slipped in and got some shampoo and conditioner from your bathroom closet. You turned back to Brahms and kneel near the tub, squeezing some shampoo in your hand and rubbing into his hair. He leaned into your touch and almost seemed to purr as you hummed a tune and washed him up, avoiding any burns or scratch. 

"Can you please take off your mask, Brahms?", you asked, needing to clean off his face now. He hesitated but cautiously took it off. His face was heavily scarred and burned. You winced internally but just carefully wipe at his face. You cleaned the inside of the mask as well but put it off to the side near his dirty clothes. You finished up the bath and helped him to get out before unplugging the drain. You wrapped him up in a towel and ushered him back into your room, where Buster was napping on your bed. You weren't worried about him trying to bite Brahms and set him next to the big dog. He cautiously petted the yellow lab, earning a tail wag and face lick. You got out a big brown sweater your grandmother had knitted for you on Christmas and put it on Brahms. Grabbing him and motioning for Buster to follow, you head to the kitchen. It was getting pretty late, so you decided on a classic meal; peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. You got out the stuff and two plates. You spread some peanut butter on a slice while Brahms and Buster watched, hungry. You cut the sandwiches into triangles and cut the crust off Brahms's when he quietly asked for it. You fed Buster a spoonful of peanut butter and filled his bowl full of dog food before eating your own sandwich. You asked Brahms questions about himself, and he would sometime respond with a whisper or stay silent. After you both finished, you cleaned dishes and he played with Buster. You took him up to the guest bedroom and tucked him in, only for him to cry out when you made to leave.

"Stay...please?" You smiled and motioned for him to scoot over. After you tucked yourself in, Brahms cuddle up to you and began to fall asleep. You were quickly following him too, everything that happened now catching up to you. You sleepily hugged Brahms to your chest and dozed off. 


	5. Michael Myers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One stabby boi

...some kid wearing a white mask. He seemed to be wearing a small mechanic-looking navy jumpsuit, but you weren't focusing on that. You were focusing on two facts: that you had 1)been almost raped and 2) witnessed a man die. You started tugging on your hair, trying to figure out what the fuck you were supposed to do from here. _Hide the body? Run away? And was the kid now going to kill you?_ You hadn't even planned what to eat today, much less your funeral! _Do I have a bucket list? What did I put on it?_ While you were freaking out and muttering to yourself, the kid had hid the body, cleaned his knife, and was now tugging on your sleeve for your attention to no avail. He hesitated for a moment and then pinched your arm. 

"Ow!", you yelped, rubbing at the spot he pinched you.Now that he had your attention, he started to make gesture with his hands. You stared at him before realizing he was signing ASL. You signed for him to repeat what he did, and he very enthusiastically did. 

 _'Are you ok? I did not mean to scare you.'_ You relaxed a bit, good at least he didn't seem to want to kill you. You signed that you were fine and also asked if he was ok as well.  _'I am fine. Just have a scratch.'_ Narrowing your eyes, you told him to show you the scratch. He turned and pointed to his left shoulder. The supposed "scratch" was actually a 3 inch long stab wound. You immediately signed,  _'JUST A STAB WOUND?!' ,_ to which he shrugged. He started to walk away, actually thinking this conversation and meeting were over, which it was very much _not_. You dash in front of him and told him very sternly to come home with you so you could treat his wound, ignoring his signing protests until he very grudgingly gave in.

 

When you got home, you showed him upstairs to your bedroom's bathroom and told him to wait there. He walked in and you followed. Taking out a first aid kit from under the sink, you started to dab at the injury. Luckily, it wasn't deep, but it must have hurt because he winced multiple times. You also took into account how dirty he was and signed for him to take off his clothes and take a bath, making sure to leave his clothes outside of the door for you to put in the washer. He nodded and you started to leave until he tugged on your leg. You turned to him.

' _Michael'_ You were confused for a bit before remembering that you didn't ask for his name. Hitting your forehead with the back of your hand, you scolded yourself and then told Michael your name. While he began to take his bath, you took his clothes and put them in the wash, and you also started to make some dinner: plain, simple spaghetti. While you were waiting for the noodles to finish boiling, Michael came in wearing one of your old metal rock shirts. You motioned for him to sit, and he sat down at the dinner table. You turned on some television, and  _C_ _utthroat Kitchen_ came on. Michael was transfixed on the show while you finished up the spaghetti and handed him a plate of it. You and him ate while watching the tv as people outbid each other on sabotages. It was kind of funny to watch him react to things happening in it; he would gesture at the tv and then look at you like  _you saw that , right?_ and would sometimes just angrily gesture at the people. When you all finished eating, you cleaned the dishes and turned the tv off, bumming Michael a bit. But when you told him it was time to sleep, he perked up.

 _'It's been awhile since I've sleeped in a real bed. It's not a hard mattress like the ones at the  asylum, is it?_ ', he signed, and you were shocked. _He'd escaped an asylum?_ You shook your head that the mattress wasn't hard. He took off in the direction you headed in, and you found in the guest room.  _He must have looked around after his shower_. You helped him into the bed and get under the blanket before turning back to leave. For the third time today, you felt a tug. Michael looked a bit sheepish as he signed,' _Can you check the closet for monster?'_ You smiled and walked over to the closet, opening it and showing that there were no monsters in it. He nodded and laid down completely, and by the time you were out of his room, you could hear little snores of contentment. You smiled and headed to your room. Booting up your computer, you prepared yourself for a long night of looking up adoption papers.

 

 


	6. Freddy Krueger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One burnt boi
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry for being gone for so long. I didn't have any idea on how to continue. I'm going to do one more killer after this one and end this(for now).

... a little boy in a red and green striped sweater. He was shivering from the cold and was cowering away from you in fear. You couldn't see his face due to a worn out fedora casting a shadow over eyes and nose. You could see bruises on his left cheek and additional bruises scattered over his limbs. The only piece of clothing he had on was the before mentioned sweater which stopped at his knees. The question you had on how this little, scared kid killed a man was answered when you noticed a fingerless glove with small blades attached on each finger excluding the thumb. It was very crudely made, using a wool mitten and twine to keep the knife blades on the glove, doing a poor job from keeping the blades from cutting the wearer's fingers. A whimper coming from the boy made you realize you had been unconsciously moving forward. He was now backing up very quickly into the alleyway where the dead body-. Your mind finally caught up with the situation you were in and you started to shake. Crumpling on to the ground, you wrapped your arms around yourself. Scenarios of what might have had happened if the little boy hadn't jumped in and intervened kept racing around in your head and you started to hold your head instead as if that would cause your mind to stop spinning the possibilities of the what if's. You focused on breathing in and out definitely not wanting to have a panic attack or break down in tears in front of a murderer. Although, looking at him again(the kid had walked closer to you curiously after you kinda fell down), you didn't really think he was going to be an issue. Focusing on the shiny tracks on the lower part of his face, he didn't seem like some emotionless psycho kid killer, he just looked like a kid who was scared of everything. 

"Hey.." The boy flinched a bit at your soft voice and your heart ached."You okay there, pal?" You felt oddly relieved when he slowly nodded his head. Slowing getting up so as to not startle him, you dusted off your jeans and again moved slowly, taking off your jacket and holding it out to him. "Here, take it. It's a bit chilly to be out here with only a sweater on." He waited a moment as if waiting for you to yell 'Syke!' and yank it away before reaching for it and quickly grabbing it with the gloveless hand. You nodded and not knowing what else to really do, awkwardly waved goodbye to the child before continuing on your way. The body would most likely be taken care of by police, and the kid probably lived around here. Or maybe he lived on the streets, but it didn't seem likely since he looked to be clean except for the grime and blood likely from killing the man. Before even making it ten steps, a small force hit you from behind, causing you to stumble and look down. The kid was clinging to your leg, not looking at you but clinging tighter when you moved. You paused before shrugging and continuing on your way home, a small smile tugging at your lips. 

 

 

 

"Freddy." You looked up slightly in confusion to the little boy on the counter."My-my name. It's Freddy." You smiled gently and complimented his name, saying it was a wonderful name. He lit up in joy. After you had gotten home, you had told him your name and directed him to the guest bathroom to clean off the blood and grime all over him. You had left his hat on the bed in the room, it being the only thing Freddy had, and threw the sweater in the washer. The knife glove had been thrown on the floor by Freddy while he had gotten undressed and you very hesitantly picked it up. Not wanting to get rid of it since it seemed to be something he was very proud on making by himself(him telling you this when you asked where he got it from). But also not wanting Freddy to hurt himself with it by mistake, you made the decision of putting it in a shoe box underneath the bed that was now Freddy's. After that, you went to your room and looked through your clothes and found an oversized Christmas sweater that was red and green with a star centered in the middle. You took a minute to cry alone in your room as well while Freddy got dressed, very much so needing to after hearing his remarks on how he didn't know bath water could be so warm and that the Christmas sweater was the first gift someone had ever given to him in a long time other than his sweater, which he was given to 'hide those disgusting bruises from others(this being what he was told by the giver). Whatever situation Freddy was in had been a bad one and you were happy he was out of it. His shy personality was all but gone at this point, leaving a bundle of energy and joy in its wake. Freddy had roamed around your house, asking what things were, how they worked, or if he would have to go back home. The last question you had told him no, he wouldn't have to go back home and he beamed a bright smile at you. At one point he accidentally hurt himself by stubbing his toe on a corner of furniture."Fuck-!" His eyes went wide and he suddenly got into a ball and started screaming that he was sorry and that he hadn't meant to curse. You had rushed over and cuddled him up to your chest, shushing him and telling him it was okay and to just not do it again, okay? He took awhile to calm down, but you just held him there while he did. A growl coming from his stomach made you realize that you hadn't fed him or yourself yet, and so you carried him with you into the kitchen and set him down on the kitchen counter while you got all the things for making sandwiches.

"Do you like PB and J sandwiches, Freddy?", you asked. He nodded,smiling now and kicking his legs in the air as you fixed a very late dinner. You helped him get down and then you walked over to the table, setting both plates down and turning back to Freddy, who was still standing near the counter with a confused frown."What's wrong, sweetie?" His response made you freeze from getting two glasses of apple juice, almost dropping one in shock. 

"Don't I have to eat on the floor?" He tilted his head at you, his innocent eyes telling you he really thought it was normal for kids to sit on the floor while grownups sat at the table for meals. You put a damper down on your growing rage at Freddy's parents and forced a smile.

"Of course not, sweetie. Come an sit at the table with me, kay?" Freddy just nodded and sat down in the chair opposite of you. Judging by the way he wolfed down a sandwich(and shyly asked for another), his parents didn't feed him well either. Abuse, neglect, possible abandonment...you both needed to know and were scared of what else Freddy had suffered at the hands of others. After finishing your meal and cleaning the dishes, you lead Freddy back up to brush your teeth and go to bed. Tucking Freddy in, you asked him a few questions. Where did he used to live? Did he have a mom and dad? What were they like? He answered that he had lived in an apartment(looking very proud at correctly saying apartment) before he frowned and said that he didn't have a mommy or daddy, and that a man he called Mr. Underwood used to take care of him. Freddy started to sniffling a bit before clutching your arm and burying his face into your side, begging you not to tell Mr. Underwood that he was here or that he did 'a naughty thing' again. You guessed he was referring to him murdering your would-be rapist and brushed off the fact he said again. The things he must have done were probably minor things, like the swearing. Hopefully. You again reassured him that everything was alright and you would not tell Mr. Underwood that he was here. He calmed down before meekly asking you to sleep with, stating he had nightmares a lot and didn't want the Boogeyman to get him. You got in bed with him and let him cuddle up to you, wrapping your arms around him in a makeshift hug as he fell asleep. You look down at your little hero and your heart and mind settled on one goal. You would adopt Freddy. It would take some time and patience to work out all the kinks and such, but you knew a few people who would help things run smoothly. And, you thought a bit more darkly, that Mr. Underwood would be nothing more than a bad memory. You fell asleep with the goal of waking up in morning and pulling in those favors very soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are appreciated! I kinda lost drive for this story and just forgot about it for awhile, but now I want to finish it up a bit. 
> 
> I don't really know much Freddy Krueger's past as a kid and I hope this is somewhat good enough. I'm also thinking of going back and editing earlier chapters as well, but I might wind up feeling to lazy to do it. :L


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